There are two things I know in life.
1) Why the caged bird sings.
2) I'm a bona fide sucker for vintage auctions.
Yesterday while doing "research" for the shop, I had one of my competitors' auctions up as they were ending in real-time. In theory, it's good to study what trends are popular (what sells for the most, what sells for the least). Even in the fabulous world of dated clothing, certain decades go in-and-out of style.
But like a fly drawn to the pretty glowing zapper, I happened upon a vintage '80s cross-back floral sun dress that made my blood run green with envy.
"I think I should bid on this," I declared to the universe.
"No, you shouldn't," my husband protested, from the next room. "You're not purchasing clothes from your competition."
"But it's SO cute. It looks like the striped cross-back dress I got from Urban Oufitters. Only no one else will have this one."
"We sell a million dresses that look like that every week. Why don't you just keep one?" He said.
"Because! This one fits my measurements perfectly. And it's better!"
"Don't do it."
"I'm doing it!"
"DON'T DO IT."
Seconds later, as the timer blinked to a minute and change, I plugged in an absurdly high opening bid. Being familiar with this particular shop, I was aware how fierce their buyers could be and I really wanted this dress. My heart raced with exhilaration. Did I really want this dress? Or did I just want to WIN this dress? Would I regret it if I won? I just sold a few Buy-It-Now items, which would directly fund this purchase. Perhaps I could use the money more than ANOTHER vintage frock.
As the seconds became more spare, I knew I wanted the dress. For all my hard work. And equally, yes: I wanted to win it.
3... 2... 1...
Congratulations, alamedavintage! You won this item.